by Eliza Knight
When she was finished, she worried slightly over whether or not her plan would work, but then she snorted. Men were men. And she knew how to manipulate a cocksure braggart.
In a world where she was constantly fighting an uphill battle and losing, this was one fight she was determined to win.
Chapter Six
Thor stood at the helm of the ship deep in thought. It had been hours since he’d left his quarters, and his blood still ran hot from seeing Alesia doused in water, her garments clinging to her like a second skin. Breeches that left not a single inch of her legs to the imagination and a shirt molded to her perfect breasts and enticingly pointed nipples.
“I’m taking ye up on your offer,” came a female voice from behind him.
He groaned, and refused to turn around. “Go back to the cabin.” His demand was harsh, and he hoped it got his message across loud and clear. He didn’t want her out here. Not with his men, and most definitely not with him.
Enough time passed that he hoped she’d walked away, but then she spoke, making his gut clench. “I said I’m taking ye up on your offer, Captain Thor.”
“I made ye no offers.” Why did his voice sound so strangled?
“Aye, ye did.” Her soft footsteps sounded behind him.
“Will ye put on some bloody shoes?” he grumbled, but his voice trailed off and his jaw slackened when he caught sight of her as she faced him across the helm.
The lass wore a too-tight gown the color of a summer sunset that strained impossibly against her pert breasts. The trollop who’d worn the gown before her had been amply endowed, though a good six or ten inches shorter. He dared not look down to see if her calves were exposed, because he was certain they would be, and already blood was pooling in his groin. Blood and bones, his cock seemed to be in a constant state of rock solidness since he’d come across the lass. First her in wet clothes, and now this ridiculous gown. She might as well parade around naked in front of him.
“Go back to the cabin,” he repeated, this time through bared teeth in the hopes she’d take his threat seriously.
No such luck, for she crossed her arms over her chest. There was a subtle tearing sound, and she fisted her hands at her side and looked ready to stomp her feet. Just where the gown tore, he hadn’t a clue.
“Are ye a coward, Captain?” Alesia tossed her head, the braid she’d fashioned out of her unruly hair whipping from over her shoulder to her back. The thing could be used as a weapon.
Thor despised when anyone called him a coward. “Ye’re treading in deep water, lass. I suggest ye heed my warnings and return to the cabin afore I toss ye over my shoulder and lock ye there myself.”
Ignoring him completely, she licked her lips as she drew in a quick breath “I challenge one of your men to a fight. For coin,” she said loud enough for the crew to hear.
“Ballocks,” he groaned under his breath.
“Not ballocks, ye maggot-brain.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. I need coin. As ye can see”—she spread her hands out and turned in a mind-numbing circle—“this gown simply will not do. And ye have refused to give me the coin that belongs to me for turning myself over to ye so that I might purchase a new one.”
Keeping his frown, he stared her down. “And so ye wish to fight for coin.”
“Aye,” she said without hesitation.
With a sigh of resignation, Thor responded, “Then ye shall fight me. I’ll not have any of these men laying hands on ye.”
A wide, victorious smile filled her face. “Then let us go.”
Thor glanced down at the gown, unable to help himself from teasing her. “Ye know the rules state a woman is to fight bare-chested,” he said with a roguish wink.
Her mouth fell open, and she shook her head. “I’ve never been one to follow rules, ye blackguard.”
“I didna suppose ye were,” he said with a dejected exhale.
Alesia snorted. “Shall we?”
“Ye dinna want an audience?”
She cocked her head at him, narrowed her eyes. “An audience?”
“The men. A crowd to cheer on the victor.”
She pursed her lips. “I see. I had thought ye wouldna want your men to witness your downfall.”
That made him laugh. She was so damned sure of herself. “Ye’re a cocky lass.”
“Ha. I am self-assured. There’s a difference.”
“Won many a fight, eh?” He took off his coat and started to roll up his sleeves.
“As a matter of fact, I have.” Her chin lifted another notch. “More than ye can likely count.”
“Well”—he whistled for Edgard to take the helm—“let us see what ye’re made of then.”
Once his lieutenant had the helm, he came around toward her, rolling his neck from side to side as he cracked it. He tossed his hat to one of the swabs and then nodded to her gown. “It’s a might tight. Will ye be able to move?”
“I’m not stripping down, if that is what ye’re suggesting.”
“Suit yourself.” Lord, but she was a stubborn one. He’d never met a lass as obstinate as she was. In fact, somehow over the course of the day, he’d grown a soft spot for her. She reminded him a lot of himself.
Turning to the mast, he rang the bell for the men to come up on deck. The seagulls that had been perching on the mast bars took off, squalling their displeasure. Once the crew were assembled, Thor raised his hand for silence.
“The lass has issued a wager, and we’ve asked ye all to bear witness.”
The men looked at each other and then between their captain and Alesia, confusion etched on their sea-worn faces. Thor tried not to grin. They didn’t say a word, else risk getting a thrashing, but their curiosity was definitely piqued.
Thor cast a slanted glance toward Alesia, who stood tall, hands behind her back as though she were used to being announced at a fight. Who was this woman? She’d alluded to a rough life, mentioned she’d fought many times before. But just what was her game?
“Miss Baird has wagered a challenge of fisticuffs.”
At this, two dozen pairs of eyes flew wide as the helm was round and mouths gaped like the caves along the coasts.
“What say ye? Shall I accept her challenge?” At this, he was inviting his men to voice their opinions.
Shouts of approval rang loud, and then Edgard, from the helm called out, “What will she win?”
This had all the men laughing their arses off, because none of them expected her to be the victor.
“She’ll win this.” Thor tugged a coin purse that jingled full of silver from his sporran. To give her the purse would be nothing for him. He had more than enough.
“And if ye win?” Edgard asked.
Thor’s grin slowly widened as he turned to look her over. “Och, my prize will be much greater and entirely more satisfying than a little silver.” Alesia’s cheeks heated as his gaze raked over her body. “If I win, she’ll not leave my bed for a week.”
The men let out whoops and hollers that were likely to wake the dead at the bottom of the sea. For what pirate didn’t like to hear about bed-sport when a beautiful lass was the one doing the playing?
“What say ye, Miss Baird? Are the terms amenable?” Thor caught her gaze, watched her struggle.
She looked ready to pop, her face red as flames and her eyes bulging with fury.
“Aye,” she ground out. “On one condition.”
“That is?”
“If I win, I want the coin, and to see ye walk the plank. Naked.”
Thor threw his head back and laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. Following suit, his men also laughed. But their laughter didn’t seem to make her waver one bit. “Will I be allowed back on the ship?”
Lips pursed she appeared deep in thought. “Aye.”
“All right. I agree to your terms. Are ye ready?”
She nodded and reached for her sleeves, showing an immense strength as with one tug she ripped at the fabric, rending it up to her elbows. She repeated
the move on the other side, baring her long, lithe arms, sculpted with oddly sensual muscle.
“Do ye not wish to at least don shoes?” he asked, staring at the wee pinkness of her toes.
“I hate shoes. Thought ye’d have caught on to that by now.”
“I’ve noticed.”
One of the swabs started to tap at a drum. A steady bum, bum, bum, as though one of them were being made to walk the plank already.
Thor had no plan to start the fight. That was all up to her. This was her idea, and he wasn’t one to ever hit a woman. If she wanted to wager a fight with him, she was going to have to come at him. Thor’s plan was to block her. To defend himself until she exhausted herself, and then he was going to sweep her up into his arms and carry her back to his quarters to gain his prize. All he had to do was make certain she didn’t get a hit on his Scottish bag and pipes like she’d done earlier, because if she did, she’d gain a slight upper hand.
She stood before him, green eyes focused on his face, and Thor took in the way she presented herself. Steady. Determined. Strong. Over the course of his life, he’d faced off with any number of rough men. Well-trained men. Devils and the like. He’d even faced off with an infamous female pirate once, but even she had nothing on the strength he saw in Alesia’s eyes. This was different somehow. She was different. Didn’t have killing on the mind. She didn’t have maiming as her end game. The lass wanted something. The coin. But why?
Why did that seem more important to her than meeting her sire? He knew she didn’t want it to buy clothes as she kept saying. By the look of her when she’d first come on his ship, he would have said that fashion was not one of her pursuits. And considering she wore breeches and shirts, there were plenty of those on his ship she could have taken.
Perhaps she hated her sire as much as he hated his.
That was just another thing they had in common.
Thor grinned at her, unable to help himself. He didn’t know why, but seeing her standing there like that made him happy. The lass wanted to punch his face in, and he was pleased about it.
Thor walked in a half circle with his hands at his sides, his men as silent as the grave. The lass watched him, her hands raised out in front of her. The stance looked trained, as though she’d been instructed. This was certainly not her first time fighting. Hell, he’d known that from the solid right hook she’d swung at him in his cabin.
But she’d need to bring more than a right hook to this fight.
Alesia watched him intently, her gaze never wavering. Eyes locked on his. He almost felt mesmerized by the green depths.
“I’m happy to dance, lass, but—”
Thwack.
As soon as he’d opened his mouth, she’d lunged forward, jabbing a fist into his gut.
The hit took more out of him than he wanted to admit. Wow. He’d not been prepared, his muscles not tightened. He might just have a bruise there on the morrow.
Tossing her a wide grin, he held up his arms, though he didn’t form fists. He just meant to block her blows.
“I’ll let ye have that one,” he taunted.
“Is that so?” She winked.
Thor almost stumbled. Was the lass teasing him?
Allowing her to best him wasn’t an option. And not because he couldn’t bear to part with the coin. In fact, he could give a shite about the coin. What he wasn’t willing to lose was the opportunity to bed her for a week.
A slow rumble on the ship started. At first it sounded like despaired, despaired, despaired, but then Thor realized they were saying Miss Baird, Miss Baird, Miss Baird. They were chanting the little hellion on. He didn’t know whether to be appalled or to laugh at their bravado.
But he dared not look at them to offer a reaction and leave himself open to another shot.
Alesia started to shift back and forth on her feet, bouncing a little, and a grin seemed stuck on her face. She was enjoying this and the men’s chants.
Thor beckoned her to begin, enough was enough. He couldn’t take the next shot, but he wasn’t going to wait here all night.
The wee hellion bounced to the right, jabbed out with her left hand, which he moved to block, leaving his right side open for the three quick hooks she lodged into his ribs.
Ballocks! That hurt.
Thor swatted her away, and she danced back and out of his reach. This really wasn’t fair. He wasn’t going to fight her back, and he couldn’t let her win either. But it seemed that waiting her out was going to leave him bruised.
What did one do with a child throwing a tantrum? Or a young swab whose fury at the world had him swinging at any man who neared? Thor lifted them up. And he was going to steal her up too.
A second later, she darted at him again, attempting to fake to the right this time, but he didn’t let her. He’d been waiting for it, so he reached out with one arm, snaked it around her waist, hoisted her off her feet and tucked her under his arm as he spun in a circle, her legs dangling in front of him, her head and arms behind him.
She let out a vulgar curse and punched and kicked, but without much momentum behind her assault, it felt like a few flies bouncing off his skin.
“Och, lass, what happened?” He laughed. “Not so cocky now are ye?”
Just then, a sharp pain seared through the back of his thigh. It felt remarkably like the pointed edges of teeth. She’d bitten him?
Thor let go, dropping the lass to the ground. She scrambled backward.
“Ye’re a little animal,” he accused.
She wiped at her mouth where a trickle of blood came to the corner. Was it his?
As if sensing his question, she snorted. “’Tis mine. I bit my tongue when ye dropped me, ye no good, filthy son of a whore.”
Thor’s mood darkened instantly. No one was aloud to talk about his mother. She was a saint in his eyes. The woman had dealt with a blackguard for a husband, suffered through it in order to protect her people and her son, only to be betrayed by the bastard and murdered by his cohort.
The ship grew silent, as the men knew what a deadly mistake Alesia Baird had just made.
Without a word, he reached forward, grabbed her by the hand and hauled her toward him, pinning her against him with one arm around her back.
“That was a mistake,” he said low, and cold.
“I dinna make mistakes.”
“Ye did this time, lass.” Tucked up against him, she slapped him hard in the face.
It stung, but not as much as seeing his pain mirrored in her eyes.
“My mother was not a whore.” He kept his voice low, with a level of threat should she decide to continue down this path.
“How lucky for ye,” she spat. “Mine was.” Her words were filled with anguish, and he felt it all the way deep in the center of his body in that dark place where he’d banished any and all emotion.
Thor let her beat him then. Let her wail on him, getting all the anger and pain out pummeling his chest. He could take it. And he wanted it. Needed the physical pain to distract him from the emotional. With his gaze locked on hers, he saw Edgard dismiss the men out of the corner of his eye, allowing the lass a moment of privacy in her anguish. It was obvious she wasn’t going to win this battle, but neither would she lose. The men would give their captain congratulations later, but Thor wouldn’t take it.
He’d not won this fight fairly. Not when her heart and her mind were so ravaged. And he wouldn’t hold her to a week in his bed either. That wouldn’t be fair.
“That’s enough, Miss Baird,” he said calmly.
But she didn’t stop, so Thor wrapped his arms around her, pinning her flailing limbs as he’d done in his cabin upon their first meeting. She writhed and grunted until he thought perhaps she was possessed, and then she fell limp in his arms, her face resting against his chest. When she started to shake, he realized she was crying. Sobbing, in fact.
Thor held her, letting her cry against his chest, wetting his shirt, until the skies overhead opened up in solidarity. Rain poure
d down on them, soaking them to the bone while she sobbed. And still his patience kept. He didn’t know why. He wasn’t one for emotion, let alone great shows of it. To have a woman weeping in his arms would have sent him running just the day before. Hell, he couldn’t stand a blubbering being. He would have left any other to whine and wail on the decking, but Alesia was different. And he didn’t know why. There was just something about her.
She was the same lass he’d seen jumping across barrels and taunting the guards at Port of Leith in Edinburgh, and perhaps that was when she’d first garnered his respect.
Ballocks… Respect?
Thor didn’t fully respect anyone save Shaw, his pirate prince, and MacAlpin, their king. Even the men of his brethren, though they had his esteem, only held about seventy percent of his respect, the other thirty percent he spent questioning their sanity, guts and intelligence.
All the sudden, he noticed that her sobbing had stopped, and he looked down to see that she was staring up at him. Her eyes were red and swollen, her lips, too, moist from the rainwater and tears.
He had the sudden urge—nay, need—to kiss her. With his gaze on her lips, he slowly lowered his head and then stopped. He couldn’t kiss her. That made him no better than any other man that had abused her all her life.
“Dinna stop,” she said, and leaned up on her bare tiptoes to brush her wet lips to his.
The touch of her lips on his was soft, tentative, and it sparked something inside him that had him holding her securely to him. Bones and blood, she felt so good. He could have fallen to the deck with her right then and there. But the idea of doing so made him suddenly hesitant. He’d never used caution when kissing a woman in his life. Until now. He wanted to, desperately, but did not want her to believe that he was merely taking advantage of her.
“’Tis a tie,” he whispered against her soft lips. “Neither of us won.”
“That is not why I’m kissing ye,” she said softly, her warm breath fanning over his mouth. “And I willna be asking ye to walk the plank. Take me back to your cabin.”